


Not Mine

by marcescent



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Or Is It?, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcescent/pseuds/marcescent
Summary: If things went according to the plan, one of them would be dead by now. Mingyu’s quite proud of his track record, Jihoon’s is almost perfect. Yet, they are still both very much alive, sneaking into hotel rooms, trying to fuck each other’s brains out in a poor attempt to unsee their ties to reality.orJIgyu awb - assassins with benefits
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Not Mine

**Author's Note:**

> hello, just want to add that there is a very very brief and mild mention of violence (really, it's just one sentence)  
> enjoy!

Jihoon’s fingers burn their way in random patterns on Mingyu’s bare hip down to the thigh. His skin remembers the lines, remembers every point of contact made.  
  
Mingyu is keeping every muscle to sit still, afraid that no matter how small the movement or sound, it will disturb this bubble around them.  
  
It is rare for Jihoon to indulge him in soft touches for this long. Mingyu wants to say he hates this part. Wants to make himself hate it because every time it is as he is borrowing someone else’s life, just for the night until he is dropped back into misery and distractions.  
  
He could say it. Tear open his chest, heart bare for Jihoon to regard and beg him to make sense of this. He knows exactly what would come out of his mouth. The words carefully chosen and rehearsed half-lucid on the rare nights he spent in his own bed. He could pour his heart out right here. Let it bleed onto the white hotel sheets underneath them until he is empty.  
  
But he swallows his heart down. It would be pointless. He knows this too. Whatever little speech he has prepared isn’t enough to alter reality. What he wants, _they_ want means very little in this life.  
  
Mingyu suspects Jihoon has figured this out as well. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t speak when he leaves anymore. He dresses wordlessly while Mingyu pretends not to watch from the bed. If he’s lucky, Jihoon will kiss him once more. The kiss is always bitter. It seeps of restraint but Mingyu takes it and keeps his by his heart. Like it’s the last breath he will ever take.  
  
Then it’d be just the click of the heavy door letting Mingyu know he’s gone. And Mingyu would be left with a needle and a thread, in solitude.  
  
But every time he manages to push down the bile and the burst of loneliness.  
  
Sleep forgotten, he goes on, desperately chasing away his thoughts. He’s always been good at acting fine in the constrictive presence of others.  
  
Mingyu turns to look at him but he is not acknowledged. Jihoon is monitoring the move of his hand like it requires his constant attention. His hair is sticking out in weird places. There are bags under his eyes that make him look worse since he last saw him (Mingyu wants to say something like “make sure you eat enough” or “you should get more sleep”. Just the thought of it makes him laugh. Maybe he could kidnap Jihoon and take him to his apartment. He would keep him there until he catches up on sleep and eats a sufficient number of home-cooked meals). His heart squeezes all the same at the sight of him. Mingyu is not used to it aching like this and he bitterly wishes it would all stop.  
  
Mingyu presses his lips softy against scattered spots from his shoulder to the neck. Jihoon’s skin tastes of sweat and restlessness. In some places the smell of his perfume lingers. It paints memories similar to this one, warm in feeling, washed in color.  
  
With fingers under his chin, he moves his head, forcing Jihoon to meet his eyes before he leans in for a kiss. Mingyu moves his mouth slowly, without much effort, traces his tongue over the swollen bottom lip like he has all the time in the world.  
  
“I think I am in love with you,” Jihoon says into the kiss.  
  
He breathes in a lungful of ice. A whirl of emotions fly through him and it leaves something heavy in his stomach.  
  
At the same time, Jihoon’s well-practiced composure falters for a second and he appears to be slightly taken back by his own confession. But it returns almost instantly. His expression not pleading or expectant of an answer, simply awaiting.  
  
It’s his eyes that never obey. His eyes are gentle and vulnerable like Mingyu hasn’t seen them before. He is struck by how pretty they look, behind a transparent layer of something he doesn’t recognize, there are galaxies pulling him in.  
  
They add to the heaviness of his heart.  
  
Mingyu definitely did not anticipate Jihoon making this complicated for them. He was so sure it would be him.  
  
“You’re so stupid. Why would you say it?” Mingyu whispers. Finally, unable to take it anymore he looks to the side. A knife between his ribs would be less painful.  
  
In the one second that the pace of the world halts, Mingyu realizes he has not once considered the possibility of Jihoon returning this dreadful feeling. If they were to be someone else if they had met through their friends and as different strangers grew to this feeling. Mingyu would be overflowing with warmth and contentment.  
  
But they are not those versions of their lives and right now Mingyu can’t find anything of that sort inside himself.  
  
“Just in case you wanted to know. It didn’t feel right to lie to you.”  
  
Of course.  
  
They were laying on the bed side by side, panting heavily. Their clothes forming a path from the front door right to the bed. Both staring at the ceiling Jihoon said it almost as a side-note comment.  
  
_“If we bring our feelings into this, we’re fucked.”_  
  
Mingyu only nodded. Unsure of how to reply but understanding what he is saying.  
  
“Right,” Mingyu huffs pulling away from him. “You held a gun to my head and lying felt immoral?”  
  
“You know what I mean,” Jihoon laughs.  
  
Frustration is swirling under his skin. For every second of Jihoon’s nonchalance, Mingyu feels a degree closer to boiling over. Does he not realize what kind of mess they’ve made of this? Does he not feel like he’s constantly running out of breath? Does he not feel the hand pulling at his heart?  
  
“I think I love you too,” Mingyu blurs out without another thought. The words taste strange as he speaks looking directly at Jihoon. He wants to laugh with the bitterness on his tongue but doesn’t.  
  
Mingyu is at peace with the possibility of dying on the job, so why does this feel like a much worse gamble?  
  
He is met with silence and avoidant eyes. He hates it.  
  
“Jihoon? How are we going to fix this?”  
  
The silence stretches between them until it grows heavy on Mingyu’s chest.  
  
Jihoon looks frozen on the spot and probably needs more time to process it but Mingyu does not feel patient.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, say something.”  
  
“There is nothing to fix,” Jihoon takes him by his wrist and slowly pulls him to lay down. “Nothing.”  
  
Jihoon holds the side of his face in his palm, thumb sliding over his cheek and Mingyu isn’t brave enough to meet his eyes.  
  
The voice inside his head pokes him, reminding him that ignoring this does not solve anything or make it go away. But they come here in secret to do just that, to avoid the outside world. So what’s one more thing to the list, right?  
  
Mingyu allows his body to melt into Jihoon’s touch. Existing only in the shape that his hands mold him into.  
  
Jihoon leans in to kiss him and it quickly turns into something rushed, almost like Mingyu will disappear from between Jihoon’s fingers around his waist. Mingyu moans his name and Jihoon maps out the inside of his mouth. He sucks on the tongue and relishes in the sound that spills out of Jihoon.  
  
Mingyu likes to push until Jihoon gets so rough with him he leaves marks on his body that he can keep and admire in the morning. They last for days at best but Mingyu’s fingertips trace them at least a hundred times in the meantime.  
  
Not this time. There is no need. He knows tonight stays with him without any visible reminders.  
  
Jihoon cups his jaw and pulls away slightly making Mingyu chase him for a second before kissing him back with force pushing a gasp out of him. Mingyu feels too hot and breathless but that isn’t enough to stop.  
  
Jihoon is so careful with him as if he’s handling the most precious, most valuable possession known to man. Mingyu has seen glimpses of this. On one of the nights that if a bit more weight was added to their shoulders they would fall to their knees. They were too tired to keep up the act and forgot about the distance, forgot about the demilitarized zone they shouldn’t venture into. 

When they finally separate, Mingyu begins pressing open-mouth kisses anywhere he can reach. Jihoon breathes harshly against Mingyu’s shoulder, his chest rising with a rapid rhythm.  
  
Jihoon is slow with his touches. Fingers lingering now and there, dancing with featherlight taps on the patch of skin. It makes it all so loving. Mingyu can’t decide if he hates it or loves it. He almost wishes for the opposite. If Jihoon was rough, he wouldn’t feel like ripping his chest open from the pain.  
  
Jihoon’s hands run over every inch of his body, he can feel them everywhere. The arms around him like Mingyu will run if given the chance. The touch of skin brings familiarity, something almost too close to comfort. It sinks into his chest with a weight.  
  
No matter how much it hurts Mingyu cherishes these moments, and truthfully that is all he has. Day to day Mingyu operates on automation. Body reigning control over mind, unless he is in imminent danger. Then when he finds himself with him it’s like he’s taking the first breath after being submerged deep into pinch black sea.  
  
In a way, he didn’t even notice how quickly he got used to it. The feeling grew roots inside his heart and now it’s useless pulling it out. It won’t disappear as he wants it to.  
  
Love is not something they can afford.  
  
His whole body moves with Jihoon pushing into him and he barely even takes notice.  
  
_Please stay, stay, stay for one more round, stay for anything._  
  
_For me._  
  
Jihoon holds him and kisses the tears that escaped. He doesn’t say a word.  
  
Later, after he puts on the last piece of clothing, his jacket, and checks his gun in the inner left pocket, he, at last, faces him and it’s the unmistakable guilt in his eyes that make Mingyu’s heart sink.  
  
_This is it._  
  
He watches Jihoon sit down beside his legs on the bed.  
  
“Can I kiss you?” He asks even though his hands are already on his body.  
  
“Please.”  
  
Mingyu leans in, helplessly pulls his arm so they are chest to chest as much as the uncomfortable position allows. He kisses him open-mouthed. He’s desperate. They both are.  
  
If there is anything he will remember it isn’t the touch of his lips, it’s the force behind the grip on his thigh before he pulls back.  
  
“I’ll be in Hong Kong for a couple weeks.” His hand stays on Mingyu’s waist. “I’ll have Jun switch the footage from the front entrance but try not to get noticed.”  
  
In a split of a second, he feels Jihoon’s lips touch his forehead. He speaks so quietly, Mingyu almost doesn’t even catch the words.  
  
“I’ll find you after. Be safe.”  
  
It takes him by surprise. The warmth of the touch is gone before his name leaves Mingyu’s lips.  
  
Mingyu pretends he believes him and doesn’t say anything else.  
  
He doesn’t have it in him to hold back the tears as Jihoon walks the few steps to the door. Something inside his head is mocking him for being so pathetic. Perhaps it’s better to look away and fail miserably at distracting himself like he usually does but he needs to know. Needs to see whether Jihoon will turn to look at him or not. Needs to know if this is a goodbye if he is this cruel.  
  
“Just. Give it time.” His voice colorless.  
  
After the thud of the door, there is nothing. He expected pain much greater than the one that usually follows but no. He feels numb. Empty.  
  
Oh, how could they both be this fucking stupid? To let it go this far?  
  
He stares at the white ceiling set alive with passing vehicles in absolute silence.  
  
His mind keeps replaying the last few minutes and when his phone starts ringing, he’s convinced some supernatural power must hate him tonight. He lets it go silent before looking at it. There are missed calls and texts with Minghao’s id.  
  
_where are you_  
_updates on jihoon’s hideout, call me_  
  
He catches the words before the screen lights up with an incoming call. He reluctantly gets up to walk to the bathroom and drowns the annoying sound in toilet water. That should buy him some extra hours of craved solitude.  
  
It doesn’t matter how much he tries, not a day goes by that Mingyu doesn’t wish he knew how to fix this. The probability of them ending up killed in cold blood too high, hoping for a different life too painful. Perhaps in the future, they can make sense of this. Perhaps they can meet in another lifetime.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
